


Flipped

by BirdOfHermes



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Jealousy, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Prompts, Unresolved Sexual Tension, clothing removal, pants removal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember that scene in Blood Rites where Kincaid has to take off Murphy's pants and Harry gets UNBELIEVABLY jealous? Well, here are three AUs of that scenario. Blame Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jealous Murphy

“Murph? You good?”

“Yeah,” I called over my shoulder, my automatic aimed at the darkness, trying to squint into it to see better, but it might as well have been a literal curtain. I had to stay sharp to give Harry and Lara time to defuse the bomb and give Mavra hell if she dared cross me.

I heard the groan of old metal—an ancient dumbwaiter weighed down by years of rust and disrepair. The children huddled on the level below with the bomb suspended above them by trip wire. Harry had flattened himself to the floor and pushed the door up as far as he could.

“Shit,” he growled. “It’s too heavy. I can’t use my legs to hold it open because it won’t go up any further.”

“No matter, wizard-mine,” the vampire said in that unnerving silken voice. “We’ll simply have to improvise.”

“Improvise how? What are you—”

He fell silent so suddenly that I couldn’t resist turning my head to look. Lara stood over Harry, her feet planted on either side of his hips, and then got on her knees…on top of him.

“Hold it steady, wizard. I’d hate for the door to take off your head.” She slipped her upper body underneath the foot or so of room between Harry and the door, which coincidentally put her miles and miles of perfect, creamy cleavage right at his eye-level. I couldn’t see much, but Harry’s fidgety legs betrayed him. He was apparently having trouble focusing.

Warm anger spread through my stomach and up both of my arms. It startled me. The hell was I mad about? The two could get married for all I cared. We had kids to save.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant Murphy?” Lara said without turning her head or moving her hands away from where they tinkered with the bomb.

“No,” I seethed, turning around. “Just hurry up.”

“Seconded,” Harry said in a rather weak voice, either from the strain of holding up the door or from something I was trying not to think about while holding a gun.

“Patience. Why is that always so hard for you humans to understand?”

“Lactic acid buildup is why,” Harry snapped, and the sarcasm made me feel a tad bit better. “Having a bomb about six inches away also doesn’t exactly relax me.”

He made a noise. But not a Harry Dresden noise. It was…God, it sounded like that throaty groan thing that men did when they were turned on by something. Again, my body betrayed me and I glanced over to see that Lara had lowered her pert leather-clad backside until she straddled his waist, cowgirl style. Forget warmth. Searing hot blood crept up my neck—not a blush, but something akin to pure irritation that she was flirting with him in the middle of a vampire’s nest when we were seconds away from either being torn apart or blown to steaming bits.

“The hell are you doing?” Harry asked, his voice rough, raw, and unlike anything I’d ever heard before. That husky timber sent shivers down my spine in all the right places, and it bothered me intensely.

“Relaxing you,” Lara said simply.

“Clearly we differ on the definition of that word.”

She laughed—a private, wanton sound in the darkness that made me shiver, but not in the good way. “It’s been centuries since I met a man so modest. How quaint. I could just eat you up, wizard.”

“Focus,” I snapped finally, returning my gaze to the darkness. “Not enough time for foreplay here.”

“What a shame,” Lara breathed, and Harry made another strangled sound of frustration, as if the comment had been accompanied by movement. I heard the rich leather make a slight creaking sound and took a deep breath, retreating into my brain.

_Harry is your friend. Your partner. It doesn’t matter if Miss Goodbody has designs on him because you two are absolutely not involved in any sense of the word. Stop acting like a jealous teenager and do your damn job, Murphy._

Each thought was fact. Unassailable, immovable fact.

And yet I still wanted to unload my clip into the vampire’s glossy black hair.

Swell.


	2. Harry vs. Murphy's pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Harry had been the one to remove Murphy's pants instead of Kincaid?

“What do we do?” I asked. “That timer’s set for two minutes since we opened the hatch.”

“I can’t fit my shoulders through that vent, but you can. I’ll hold your legs and waist steady and talk you through the spell. We can’t disarm it, but we can create a containment field that should hold it.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Should?”

Harry scowled at me. “Hey, I leave room for error. So if we get blown up and meet in the afterlife, you can’t kick my ass on a technicality.”

I rolled my eyes, shrugging out of the Kevlar vest and gun belt. After taking a couple of steady breaths, I placed my hands inside the vent and used my arms to pull my upper body through...only to stop when my hips tried to go through the hole. 

“Uh, Murph?” Harry cleared his throat. “It’s the fatigues. They’re caught.”

I squirmed this way and that, wiggling to try and gain traction to slip through, but it wouldn’t budge. After all, I had to breathe shallow just to fit the top half of me through this itty bitty space. A resigned sigh left my lips.

“Take off my pants.”

Silence. “Come again?”

I tilted my head so he could hear better, though the utter disbelief in his tone probably meant he knew what I’d said. “My pants. I can’t reach them from where I am in here, so you have to do it.”

“Uh,” Harry said, and even though I couldn’t see him, I could picture the flushed pink that was probably filling his face. “Right.”

A deeply amused voice chimed in from the hallway. “I can take over for you if you’re rusty on taking off a girl’s clothes, Dresden.”

“Fuck off, Kincaid,” Harry spat, and then I felt the brush of his jeans as he stepped up beside me. 

I pressed my lips into a firm line as his fingertips, warm and calloused, brushed the front of my stomach, skimming across it to the button on the front. The zipper made that ‘viiiiiiip!’ noise and my stupid heart rate began imitating a hummingbird’s wings. His fingers were shaking just a bit as he maneuvered the pants off my hips first, then over the curve of my backside. I shivered as the warmth bled through the cloth and I could just barely feel those long, strong digits at the space where the back of my thigh met my buttocks. He drew the pants off my calves and ankles, and then I heard chuckling.

“Pink, Murphy? With little white bows? I always pictured you in cheekies or granny panties.”

I ground my teeth. “Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I heard him mutter in a rough voice, and I could tell he didn’t think I’d hear it, but sounds were amplified by the metal around me. The comment and the tone behind it made a dizzying heat spread upward from my groin.  _Goddammit, Murphy, focus._  

“I’m almost there,” I said, ignoring my hormones. “Give me a push and I can reach it.”

Harry cleared his throat again. “Got it.”

I jumped a little as his hands cupped my knees and then he gave me a push, sliding me forward a good six or seven inches until I could reach the edge of the vent. He started telling me what to do and how to do it, securing me there with hands around my calves. I’m sure he didn’t notice what he was doing, but every so often, he’d rub his thumb along the back of my knee, and pleasure unfurled in my gut, shooting up my spine, making me want to press myself more into his touch. Had it really been so long that a good looking guy--best friend or otherwise--took off my pants or touched my bare skin? 

Christ.

I need to get out more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was given to me by Patrick_Diomedes and I couldn't be more thrilled with the mental images it presented me with. Shipper trash, who, me?


	3. Murphy vs. Harry's pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is more AU than the other two. It's still during Blood Rites, but after poor Harry gets his hand toasted and Murphy comes in to check on him.

There were some things I’d never understand about Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Oh, I understood plenty--his dorkiness, his social awkwardness, his smartass mouth that caused more problems than it solved, his burning need to always do the right thing even at unbearable cost, his foolhardy chivalric streak, and his idiotic loner ideals--but there were smaller, more troublesome things I didn’t understand yet. Like why he never wanted to ask for help until someone put a gun to his head.

I shut his bedroom door gently behind me, making sure it was an audible sound that wouldn’t scare him. My gaze swept across the haphazard state of his bedroom, usual for a bachelor, until I located him. He was slumped forward, his perpetually messy dark hair hiding the upper part of his face, his back against the headboard, eyes shut, snoozing. His long legs were strewn down the length of the bed, his feet bare. He was shirtless and I could see all the new injuries from our fight with Mavra, which led me to my real problem. His hand. God, his hand. 

Thankfully, he’d already been to the doctor--I drove him there, in fact--and they’d bandaged and treated it as best as they could, and they advised him to have it amputated, but being a stubborn son of a bitch, Harry refused. But it wasn’t going to do him much good anytime soon. It lay in his lap, inches above the button to his jeans.

I went over to the bed and ruffled his hair. “Hey. Wake up.”

Harry yawned and lifted his head, his dark eyes slightly unfocused, but when they did, he gave me an admittedly adorable sleepy smile. “Murph. Thought you’d left.”

“Was about to. Just wanted to see if you needed anything else.”

He paused, as if thinking about it. “Don’t suppose you bought another hand with you? Ow!”

He rubbed his forehead where I’d flicked him. “You’ve done enough, Murph. Saved my ass for the millionth time. Go home and get some rest before I get you in more trouble.”

“You didn’t get me in anything,” I said tartly, one hand on my hip, a scowl forming on my lips. “I signed on. End of story. And if anyone needs sleep, it’s you. Why aren’t you in your pajamas?”

He scratched his hair with his good hand, frowning at the other one. “Not really good at getting pants off with just one hand. Got the shirt and shoes off fine.”

“Right. Well, sit up. I can do it.”

Harry stared at me. “I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to repeat that.”

I crossed my arms. “Don’t be a child, Dresden.”

He barked out a laugh. “No, it’s quite the opposite, actually. I appreciate the assist, but I can manage.”

“So, what? You gonna shower in them? Wear them every day like a cartoon character?”

He scowled. “Maybe.”

“Stop making this weird. It’s not like I haven’t seen you half-naked before.”

He finally blushed, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah, but you’ve never taken my pants off before. It’s...different than just regular old nudity.”

“You’re making it bigger than it needs to be.”

He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something smartass, but my death glare made him reconsider. “Right. Murph, I mean it, I can get by on my own--”

“Harry,” I said carefully. “Scoot to the edge of this bed right now or I’m going to knock your head off.”

He cleared his throat and obeyed, sounding sheepish as he said, “Yes ma’am.”

I stepped closer, between his crazy-long stork legs, and reached for the belt, undoing it. Harry stared at the wall, hands at his sides, bouncing one leg up and down with nervous energy. The big button was a little tough to undo but I got it, sending him a positively evil smile as a thought popped into my head.

“See? Was that so hard?”

Harry blushed scarlet, glaring at me. “Ha-ha.”

I chuckled and kissed his forehead, sifting my fingers through his hair playfully. He sighed and leaned into it, his voice low.

“Thanks, Murph.”

“My pleasure, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the insidious Patrick_Diomedes put me up to this one and I'm glad I got to indulge in my unhealthy obsession again.
> 
> *throw self in the shipper trash bin*

**Author's Note:**

> The Dresden Files fandom on Tumblr is the best group of enablers that I've ever seen. This filthy habit is never going away because of them and I love it.


End file.
